by Mark McDermott
A procession wound its way through Manhattan Beach Wednesday morning as the community silently lined the streets. MBFD firefighters, along with comrades from surrounding agencies, stood in full salute in front of their engines. Students from American Martyrs stood somberly with signs conveying love for the family of fallen MBPD Officer Chad Swanson. Up the hill, students from Pacific Elementary held aloft handmade blue hearts.
The procession, which included City leaders, and Swanson’s fellow MBPD officers, made its way to the 405 freeway, where Swanson lost his life on his way to work on his patrol cycle on October 4. The procession continued to the 605 freeway, exited at Cypress, and made its way to SeaCoast Grace Church. Cerritos Boulevard leading up to the church was lined with hundreds of unattended police motorcycles.
Finally, Manhattan Beach’s dignitaries joined friends and family gathered to say farewell to Swanson, the 35-year-old avidly devoted peace officer, husband, and father of three young boys.
MBPD Chief Rachel Johnson was the first to eulogize Swanson. She stood above his casket, which was draped with the American flag, something that Swanson loved so much that a stream of hundreds of photos that played on an overhead display at the funeral’s end — accompanied by the country music he likewise loved — showed him frequently wearing the flag as part of various items of clothing. The church was filled with the formality of a fallen officer’s funeral, including an honor guard standing at attention, but Johnson took a moment at the outset of her remarks to step aside from the formality.
“At times, with the pomp and circumstance of a law enforcement funeral, it can feel like a one-dimensional representation of the person we are honoring,” she said. “So if you just don’t mind for a minute, my name is Rachel, and I’m going to talk to you about Chad.”
She’d clearly spoken at length to his parents, Kip and Valerie, and his older brother, Cory. Johnson noted that Swanson came into the world in April, 1988, at nine pounds, a “not-so-little brother” to Cory, who is 23 months older.
“Now Chad was born in the first sign of the Zodiac, Aries, also known as ‘the Ram.’ And I don’t generally put much stock in the signs, but when I read about these traits, I thought they described the Chad I knew and the Chad that everyone has told me about…. Independent, competitive to the max, loyal, smart, impulsive,” Johnson said. “As a child, I’m told that Chad was what we politely describe as spirited, so spirited at times that he became well familiar with the decor in the principal’s office at school.”
A story Chad’s mother related to the chief stood out. One day at school, one of his buddies broke a sign in the parking lot, but Chad took the blame. “Val told me, based on her prior experiences, she was skeptical of Chad’s innocence in this matter, but his brother Cory verified that Chad was not to blame this time,” Johnson said.
Chad explained to his mother that because his friend never got into trouble, he wouldn’t know how to handle it.
“So Chad, having a knowledge of what would happen and how to handle it, took the blame upon himself,” Johnson said. “His start as an everyday hero of extraordinary courage was underway.”
Swanson, who was a tall, strapping man, was undersized most of his childhood, but as Johnson said, still managed to “cast a big shadow.” He started his freshman year at St. John Bosco at 85 pounds yet wrestled at 103. He was one of those kids, the chief said, who somehow made everything look easy. He became ASB student body president and worked at In-N-Out Burger, where he took particular pride in the hand-cut french fries. After high school, he attended Cal State Long Beach and majored in criminal justice, then graduated from the Orange County Sheriff’s Academy. He began his law enforcement career as a parking enforcement officer for the Hawthorne Police Department. He joined MBPD 13 years ago and served variously as a patrol officer, SWAT team member, crime scene investigator, and use of force instructor.
In 2015, Swanson was awarded the Medal of Valor for helping save a man’s life. Johnson was not yet MBPD chief then, but the details of the commendation she read still stunned her.
“So, if you can imagine for a minute, you get this call for service for a man bleeding profusely, and there’s glass everywhere, and you find out that you are saving the life of the man who tried to break into the business,” Johnson said. “…There was blood spurting everywhere, and Chad and his partners had to apply more than one tourniquet, and a lot of pressure to get this bleeding under control. An everyday hero of extraordinary courage.”
Johnson spoke about the incident Swanson is most well known for, his heroism at the Route 91 Harvest Music Festival, which he was attending as a fan with his wife and friends when a mass shooting occurred.
“Chad was a hero that night,” Johnson said. “He helped both his friends and strangers to safety as gunfire rang out around him. He applied tourniquets and first aid to victims despite being wounded himself, and he continued to run toward the danger and help others. When he was later interviewed about his actions, Chad said, ‘I was just focused on helping everybody I could, taking out as many people as I could, just trying to make sure nobody was left alone.’ And I just want you to take that in for a moment…In times of crisis, the true measure of a person is laid bare for all to see. And Chad’s true measure was that of a loyal friend, courageous stranger, and selfless sacrifice in service to others. He was an everyday hero of extraordinary courage.”
“Chad was with us for 12,963 days,” Johnson said. “And when you see it that way, for just a minute it seems like a long time. It was not nearly enough. Chad did his best to live his life as one who will be remembered by all who knew him. He gave us so many times, and so many stories, some cautionary, some hilarious, some flat-out awe-inspiring. Chad will always be one of our brightest stars. He will always be one of us. Hailey, thank you for sharing your husband with us. Kip and Valerie, thank you for raising such an outstanding man. Chad’s sacrifice will never be forgotten and we owe him a debt that we can never repay…We are forever changed by knowing Chad, and we will honor him in all we do. He was an everyday hero of extraordinary courage.”
The chief then addressed the officer by his radio code.
“To Motor Three, Officer Chad Swanson,” she said, her voice breaking. “Thank you for everything. We have the watch, and we will take it from here.”
Swanson’s best friend from kindergarten, Scott Johnson, followed Chief Johnson’s remarks with his own eulogy.
“Chad was a guy who was larger than life itself. If you ever had the opportunity to meet him, you would know exactly what I mean,” Johnson said. “He was loud and aggressive, but kind, loving, and gentle. And he would kill me for saying that last part. But it was the truth.”
He said they grew up two blocks from each other in Southgate, and Chad was always extremely proud of where he came from.
“Let me tell you, he wasn’t always the man you all know him to be,” Johnson said. “Chad’s first car was a Buick LeSabre on 20-inch rims with the loudest sound system you’ve ever heard. And not many of you will believe me, but you never heard country music come from that car. Growing up where we did, [the LeSabre] just felt right. It was a part of him. He loved that car. As a friend, all I could do was make fun of him because it was hilarious, but he owned it. Chad was that person who never cared what people thought of him.”
Soon Swanson discovered country music and working out, Johnson recalled, and things began to change.
“He was a small dude growing up. Again, he’d kill me for that, but it all changed when he started wrestling in high school,” Johnson said. “And he was a beast. I really mean that. I secretly hated it, because all it meant was every time I saw him it was, ‘Bro, check out this new move I learned.’ Great. Here we go again. I’d get tapped out by some crazy chokehold.”
Johnson recalled the first time he met Chad’s future wife. It involved a broken-down car and his buddy’s ineptitude at even minor repairs.
“The first time I met Hailey was on the side of the road on the way to the desert,” he said. “They were broken down. Chad called and said, ‘Hey, not sure what’s wrong, but we’re on the side of the road’ I wasn’t far behind him and I told him I’d be there soon. If you knew Chad, when he wanted to learn something, he did. But let me tell you he was horrible at wrenching. I think he did that intentionally so he never had to fix anything. Well played, sir.”
Johnson arrived, fixed a hose, and told Swanson to head back home so they could fix it properly. “He looked at me and said, ‘Nah, if it breaks, you can fix it again.’ We laughed and we continued on and had a great day of shooting in the desert. Little did I know after meeting her that day what Chad and Hailey were about to create….Then came family.”
He said Chad had always wanted a big family. Johnson didn’t see his buddy as “a family man” until it started happening. “Boy, was I wrong,” he said. Chad and Hailey were married and immediately started their family. Soon thereafter, Johnson married, and started his own family, with two little girls.
“He was so in love with Hailey and loved his boys Jaimison, Declan, and Easton so damn much,” Johnson said. “He was building his empire, and was so proud to have three boys…We joked that it was meant to be so we could arrange our children’s marriages and I would never have to worry about all the crazy boys chasing my daughters. I was on board with this crazy idea, believe it or not. Good luck, boys. Watching our kids grow up together was a dream come true. And something I promise will continue forever.”
His closest friend in the police department, Officer David Gibbons, called Swanson “an actual brother.” They’d led eerily similar lives, both growing up in Catholic schools, attending CSULB, graduating from the OC Sheriff’s Academy, working in parking enforcement before becoming officers, and enjoying country music, “the craps table in Las Vegas, and hosting any sort of party,” Gibbons said.
“We worked graveyard patrol together, honor guard, SWAT, CSI, beach patrol, and many late nights of DUI enforcement,” Gibbons said. “Despite all of that immense friendship, Chad never shied away from his favorite game of rock, paper, serial number, pawning off whatever he didn’t want to do on me, or anyone less senior than him.”
“Chad was a true cop’s cop,” he said “He was very intelligent and dependable. Chad made the uniform look good and truly exemplified a police officer. Even with Chad’s loud, and often impulsive personality, he was able to remain calm and composed during the most stressful situations. Less importantly, but more memorably. Chad had zero problem telling the new guys who he barely even knew that they had a computer and didn’t need to talk on the radio all the time. Which is even more funny coming from a motor.”
Swanson had a legendary appetite.
“He fully embraced his academy partner’s favorite saying, ‘You can’t do police work on an empty stomach,’” Gibbons said. “It would be 7 a.m. when Chad would ask what’s for lunch. He then proceeded to go to his favorite spots, like In-N-Out, Chipotle, or Panda Express. Somehow that man stayed incredibly fit while eating the least healthy food.”
Gibbons said that Chad’s wife, Hailey, found a quote he’d written down on his cell phone that said, “Let me not pray to be sheltered from dangers, but fearless in facing them.”
“This quote described Chad 100 percent, whether it be Route 91, where he was shot himself, still running towards danger to save others, or anytime any of his partners put out a call for help at work,” Gibbons said. “Chad was there.”
The biggest pride of his life was his family, Gibbons said.
“Above all else, Chad was a family man,” he said. “He absolutely loves his wife Hailey. They fit together better than any puzzle piece could ever fit. Chad helped create three miniature versions of himself. Crazy, loud, and full of love. He worked hard to create a great life for them, spoiling them like crazy, and loved showing off videos or stories of his boys growing up.”
Gibbons said he ran across a quote while reflecting on his remarks for this day. “We all die,” it read. “The goal isn’t to live forever. The goal is to create something that will.”
“Chad definitely did that,” Gibbons said. “We will never forget him.”
Hailey Swanson strode to the church podium with purpose. Though emotional, she vowed from the outset not to cry, recalling that when she began to tear up at their wedding, Chad squeezed her hand and said, “No tears.”
“Some people spend their entire lives trying to figure out what their calling is, what God created them to do,” she said. “But Chad knew. He would talk about how growing up, he would sit in class daydreaming about there being a fire or earthquake, and he would be there to take people out of rubble, carry them to safety, and save the day. When the shooting started at the Route 91 festival, Chad didn’t miss a beat. ‘Those are gunshots and you need to get out of here.’ Before he disappeared into the chaos, he turned to me and he said, ‘Hold my beer.’”
“He handed me his drink, and I watched him run off into the gunfire,” she said. “He was so grateful to have been there that night, so grateful to have been able to live out what God who created him to do. When we finally made our way back to each other the next day, he came strutting up so casually through the casino, shirtless, bloody. I ran up to him crying. The first thing out of his mouth was, ‘Where’s my koozie?’ But that was Chad.”
Hailey said Chad had actually had a close call on his cycle earlier this year, serious enough that he had to be transported for medical treatment.
“He called me from the back of the ambulance to let me know that he was okay and to complain that he had just picked up his lunch, and by the time he would be able to eat it, it was going to be cold,” she said. “I could hear his smile through the phone when he told me he refused to be transported until the paramedic went back and got his burrito out of his side bag. That was Chad. Another wife asked me why I let Chad be on the bike — like I had any control over anything that that man did. But all I could say was, ‘Cowboys ain’t easy to love.’ Being loved by Chad meant never having to worry about anything. Except for Chad.”
As the other speakers noted, Swanson’s larger-than-life qualities, as outsized as they were, were still somehow overshadowed by his simple capacity to care for others.
“He was everything I could ask for in a husband, and everything little boys need in a dad,” she said. “Three under five can be rough, and our boys are not for the faint of heart. His days off were always a hurricane of yelling and wrestling, hide-and-seek, and Nerf gun fights. At the end of the day, when we were both exhausted, I would go to bed with the baby, and Chad would stay up. He did the dishes every single night to make sure that the boy’s favorite milk cups were clean and ready for the morning — not because I ever asked him to, but because he would do anything for the people that he loved. That was Chad.”
Hailey Swanson read another, longer note that she’d found, that Chad had written on his phone.
“Today is a good day,” he wrote. “I love my abundant life. I love Hailey unconditionally. I strive to do something for her every day. I appreciate all that she does for our marriage, and our marriage is growing stronger every day. We’re a match made in heaven, and I am both loyal and devoted to my spouse. I’m blessed with a beautiful and healthy family. Today and every day I learn, and grow as a husband and a father. I learn from my mistakes, and I become stronger and better. The success and happiness of my kids is my greatest legacy. Today and every day I model for my kids that a man can be both strong and caring. I’m a coach, counselor, and confident to my children. I’m an instrument of good. I’m committed to constant and never-ending improvement. I focus on learning new things and skills every day. And I am open and receptive to all the wealth that life has to offer me.”
She very nearly broke her promise not to cry as she spoke her last words, which were addressed to her husband. But she kept the promise.
“Chad, I always knew that you weren’t mine to keep,” Hailey said. “And the things that I love most about you are the reasons you’re not here with me right now. But you were my Chad, and I miss you. And I hate that you had to die, but I am so grateful that you lived.”
The Manhattan Beach Police Officers’ Association (MBPOA) has created a donation fund for the Swanson family via the Peace Officers Research Association of California (PORAC) Fund a Hero Program at PORAC.org/fundraiser/Swanson-
