DAYTON DAILY NEWS
Copyright (c) 1996, Dayton Newspapers Inc.
Published: Sunday, May 26, 1996

By Tom Beyerlein
DAYTON DAILY NEWS

In hindsight, the words of Jason "Jake" Grossnickle in February are bitterly ironic.    "There is a long road ahead of us," he told his fellow Dayton Police Academy graduates, "and anything can happen."   Then Grossnickle, who had been chosen by his classmates to give the commence- ment address, read a police officers prayer that, he said, "sums up a lot of the feelings I have been having as of late." It began with the lines: "I am on my way to work and

Jason Grossnickle Brian Catron Robert Cleaver Maurice Fareed

once again I am afraid. I am awed by the responsiblity with which I have been entrusted, frightened by the work I have embraced."
   The road ahead for Grossnickle, 25, a third-generation Dayton police officer, was not destined to be long. As he was on his way to work at Third District police headquarters on West Third Street on Thursday afternoon, his lifes path converged with that of Maurice Fareed, 24.
   Three lives ended abruptly that day.
   Police say Fareed killed Brian Catron, 31, of Middletown, about 3:15 p.m. Thursday as Catron delivered potato chips to an Antietam Avenue market owned by Fareeds family. Then Fareed drove Catrons delivery truck the several blocksto police headquarters and opened fire, killing Grossnickle and seriously wounding Officer Robert Cleaver before being killed by police gunfire.
   Fareeds funeral was Saturday, and the reason for the violent rampage may have been buried with him. His mother, Bahiyah Diouf, has said that her son had emotional problems and in recent days had said black people had no hope ofovercoming domination by whites. Fareed is black and Grossnickle, Cleaver and Catron are white.
   John Boucuvalas, who grew up with Grossnickle, said its particularly sad ifthere was a racial motivation behind the shooting, because Grossnickle was color-blind.
   Boucuvalas said he once asked Grossnickle how he felt about working in the predominantly black Third District, which has one of the highest crime rates in the city. "His assumption was people dont look at me as black or white, because I dont treat them any different and they dont treat me any different, Boucuvalas said.
  "The message that keeps pounding through my head is that someone out there assumed other people, including Jake, was the enemy," he said. "Other people, 99.9 percent of the time, arent your enemy. Jake was nobodys enemy."
   "He really challenged me as a person," said a longtime friend, Sharee Ely of Vandalia. "He took who I was and he sharpened it."
   Ely, who visited Grossnickles family Friday and Saturday, said theyre devastated. "I think everybody thinks theyre going to suddenly wake up and this isnt going to be true," she said.

'A model in everything. . .

   Grossnickle graduated from Northmont High School in 1989 and attended NorthCentral Bible College in Minneapolis and the University of Cincinnati before graduating from Wright State in 1994 with a degree in Spanish. During his senior year at WSU, he spent two months in an exchange program in Spain.
   At Northmont, Grossnickle was an above-average student who played soccer and ran cross-country. "He was a model in everything he was doing," said George Demetriades, Grossnickle's biology teacher and soccer coach.
   When Connie Squires, an English teacher at Northmont for 24 years, arrived at her classroom Friday morning, she placed a picture of Grossnickle from the Dayton Daily News in his old seat.
   "First chair, first row by the window - that's where Jake always sat, because he loved to be able to look out the window" during his freshman English class, Squires recalled. "Who could forget Jake? Jake was special. He was the most polite and one of the hardest-working of my students. He was always the first one to class, never missed turning in an assignment, never missed a day of school. So many students don't know what they want to do, but Jake was confident and even back then knew he wanted a career in police work."
   After graduating from college, he worked for Emery Worldwide, a plumbing supply store and a lawn-care service before being accepted into the police academy in August.
   Art Van Zanten, who attended bible college with Grossnickle, said he once considered becoming a minister, but his true calling was police work. "He wanted to be a cop," Van Zanten said. "He died doing what he wanted to do."
   "Doing God's will was extremely important to him. He saw his job on the police force not only as a job but as a ministry," said the Rev. John Jackson,pastor of Grossnickle's church, Happy Corner Church of the Brethren in Clayton.

Grossnickle's friends, coaches and teachers said he had a long-standing desire to follow in the footsteps of his grandfather, Lyle, who retired after 25 years with the Dayton police, and his father, homicide detective Sgt. LarryGrossnickle.    `It is an amazing situation where you live through two generations and thenyour youngest is on for four months and killed in the line of duty,' said Heath Hartline, a high school friend who also attended the bible college with Grossnickle.    Grossnickle grew up hanging around cops, sometimes serving as the bat boy for police softball teams and stopping by the homicide squad room to visit hisfather.    "I've known him from the time he was a young pup, and it was just so wonderful to see him grow up to do all the right things - showing the proper respect for people, having the right attitude," retired homicide detective TomLawson said.

Grossnickle grew up hanging around cops, sometimes serving as the bat boy for police softball teams.

   Lawson said he and Grossnickle spent a lot of time talking about something they had in common: a deep religious faith. "His favorite thing was church, honestly. He had a very strong moral character, a very deep spiritual side to him, but also a great sense of humor - all of which just made him a pleasant young man to be around. I know it's almost as if I'm trying to paint too good of a picture of him, but it's just the truth."
   Although Grossnickle was only on the streets for a few months, he was beinginitiated the hard way. Records show he was assaulted while on duty at least twice in the past three weeks, including a May 6 incident in which he was bitten by a man with hepatitis.
   "These are the kind of struggles that an officer goes through daily, but they don't make the news," Lawson said.
   "He's been pouring everything he had into his job," said another friend, John Hergenrather of Englewood. "He knew what he was getting into, going to the Third District. But he wanted to (be there) because things happen there and it was a chance to learn the ropes. He wanted tough assignments. He was not going to shy away from the job."
   Grossnickle's long-term goal was to be an FBI agent, Hergenrather said.
   After the shooting, Hergenrather and his wife, Stephanie, who attended highschool with Grossnickle, looked through photographs and videotapes of their good friend. In their son's baby book, Grossnickle wrote: "I'm going to be your favorite uncle, you wait and see."
   "He's going to be missed," Hergenrather said. "Big time."

Catron had overcome disability, alcoholism

   Brian Catron's family and friends say he struggled with a brain injury in childhood and with alcoholism later on, and was getting his life together whenhe was killed.
   "Once you really get on the right road and then God comes along and says it's your time, you just have to ask, why?" said a friend, Judy Sturgill.
   His father and mother divorced when Catron was 3, and around that time, he fell from a hay loft, suffering a brain injury that caused learning disabilities.
   "He always felt inferior, like he had to work harder, be better all the time," said his mother, Bonnie Lamb. "He never felt good enough."

Catron had begun to blossom. He took scuba-diving lessons, scoured flea markets and antique stores for old banks to add to his vast collection and taught himself to play the harmonica.

After graduating from Middletown High School in 1983, he enlisted in the Army - and though he loved the work, his drinking escalated. When he was discharged, he kept right on drinking.    Then, about two years ago, Catron took the first step toward what he hoped would be a better life by joining Alcoholics Anonymous. His girlfriend, Jayne Graham, said AA clearly helped Catron, and he had been sober for the past two years.    In recent months, Catron had begun to blossom. He took scuba-diving lessons, scoured flea markets and antique stores for old banks to add to his vast collection and taught himself to play the harmonica, becoming proficient enough to occasionally sit in with local blues bands. He had dreams of openingan antique store, the kind his grandmother had owned. He and Graham, after some rocky times, were back on track.    Four weeks ago, he took the job driving a delivery truck for Grippo potato chips. The truck was owned by distributor Jerry Williams. "He'd been doing much better. He was getting his financial affairs in order, he had a place of his own," said his stepfather, Mike Lamb.

   Sometimes, he'd reassure his family that it was safe for him to work in the inner city, but on other occasions, hed express fear.
   "He mentioned that he felt some fear going into those areas. He said, Someday, somebody is going to blow me away, and I told him not to say that, toask God to put the white light of protection around him," Sturgill said.
   In recent months, Catron increasingly looked toward God for help and guidance, sharing his faith with Mary Williams, his boss wife. "He sat right here on my patio on Tuesday night and said he had found the Lord and that it didn't matter what anyone did to his body - the Lord would have his soul."

Cleaver is described as athletic and likable

  After being shot in the jaw and seeing Grossnickle, a police academy classmate, shot down, Officer Robert Cleaver managed to fire two shots at Fareed. Cleaver's quick reaction during a crisis doesn't surprise his father.

"He's always been a good athlete," said his father, Robert H. Cleaver. "Thechief said he did his best - all he could do. Nobody could ask any more of him."    Cleaver, 29, is in serious condition at Miami Valley Hospital. A bullet entered his jaw and exited the other side.    Cleaver grew up in Beavercreek, and was a good student at Beavercreek High School, graduating in 1985 in the top quarter of his class. He graduated from Wright State in 1992 with a bachelor's degree in political science.    He pitched for the Beavercreek High baseball team and, later, a semi-professional team, the Dayton Gems. "He was quick and could throw a baseball 90 miles an hour," his father said.    Cleaver also is an avid bowler, carrying an average of nearly 200 per game.Relatives and acquaintances described him as quiet and serious, but likable.    When he was in his mid-20s, Cleaver met his wife, Andrea, at the bowling alley where he worked since he was 15 - Poelking-Woodman Bowling Lanes in

Cleaver pitched for the Beavercreek High baseball team and, later, a semi-professional team, the Dayton Gems

Kettering. They married several years ago and have a 2-year-old daughter, Allison.
  He was a manager at Poelking until deciding to become a police recruit in August 1995. Like Grossnickle, he joined the Dayton force full-time in February, and the two rookies were pals.
   Grossnickle and Cleaver were standing outside the headquarters building about 3:20 p.m. Thursday when Fareed pulled up in the delivery truck, said something to them, then started shooting. Other officers joined the gunfight, and Fareed was hit five times.

Despite Fareed's criminal
record, many are shocked

   A native of Akron, Fareed was born Maurice Cannon on Valentine's Day 1972 and changed his name for religious reasons while he was in high school, said Larry Weigle, principal of Akron's Buchtel High School. Fareed graduated from Buchtel in 1990.
   He attended Central State University from 1990-92, according to CSU spokesman Ed Chamness.
   Fareed had numerous car crashes and brushes with the law. An Akron police spokeswoman said he was a suspect in a 1991 robbery and a larceny case in January 1993, but he wasn't arrested or charged in either case. Police had fewdetails on the larceny case, but the spokeswoman said the theft case involved allegations by a Macedonia man that six males assaulted him and took his coat.The man identified Fareed and his brother, Asmar, as two of the men, but declined to press charges, she said.
   When Asmar Fareed died in an Akron car crash in March 1992, his and Maurices mother, who then went by the name of Bahijah Mujahideen, succeeded inblocking the Summit County coroner's efforts to perform an autopsy on the grounds that the procedure would violate the familys Sunni Muslim beliefs.
   Maurice Fareed also had numerous run-ins with the law in Greene County since 1990, including convictions for improper transportation of a weapon, petty theft and trespassing, according to Xenia Municipal Court records. A 1991 resisting-arrest charge was dismissed in Xenia. Fareed also spent three days in the Greene County Jail for driving under the influence, according to Greene County Sheriff's Maj. William Harden.

Fareed wasn't close to anyone at the barber school, but he got along with instructors, students and customers

When he was caught in Wilberforce two years ago with a loaded .380-caliber handgun in his car, Fareed said he carried the weapon for protection because "people like to carjack black men's cars," according to a Greene County sheriff's report.    Authorities confiscated from Fareed's car $2,261 in cash that Fareed said came from two student-loan checks. In a statement to deputies, Fareed said theother reason he had the gun was because he was carrying the cash. He told themhe didn't want to keep the money at home.    A drug-sniffing dog reacted to the cash, but Fareed was never charged with a drug offense and the money was returned to him.    Fareed pleaded guilty to the weapons charge and was given a 30-day suspended sentence by Xenia Municipal Court Judge Raymond Hieber. Fareed was fined $250 plus court costs and ordered to perform community service or serve the time under house arrest, court records show.

   In the earlier 1990 conviction for theft Fareed was fined $100 and sentenced to 30 days in jail. He was fined $200 and sentenced to 30 days in jail for the 1991 trespassing conviction.
   In 1989, two months after his 17th birthday, Fareed was walking with a couple of companions near Columbus Street in Xenia when they encountered a mandriving by in a pickup.
   The driver of the truck told Greene County sheriff's deputies the three gotin two cars and chased him to his house, where one of them pulled a gun in hisfront yard. The man's wife called authorities.
   Fareed admitted to authorities that he was the one standing in the front yard, but he had a different version of what happened. He told officers that he pulled a toy gun only after the man had raised a stick and used a racial slur.
   Court records do not show the outcome of the aggravated menacing charge, but Harden said it may have been dropped after authorities realized Fareed hadpulled a toy gun rather than a real one.
   In January 1995, Fareed moved to a one-bedroom unit at Sunset Villa apartments in Cincinnati, where he lived next door to a law enforcement officer, according to employees and tenants. Fareed was one of about three black tenants in the building of 14 units.
   "He was real quiet. He never said anything to anyone," said the manager, whose living-room window overlooks the parking area for the complex. "I keep an eye on people."
   Fareed's mother and stepfather rented a house at 617 Torrington Place in Dayton in July, said Modelle Schuller, the owner of the house. She said Maurice and a grown daughter temporarily moved in with the Dioufs several months ago because they were having trouble making it on their own financially.
   Schuller said the Dioufs were hard-working. Mrs. Diouf works as a nurse at Dayton Correctional Institution, a prison spokesman said, and she and her husband, a native of the West African nation of Senegal, secured a loan to buythe market within the last year.
   "I saw them as a family who were struggling in the best sense of the word,"Schuller said. "The family seemed to be making progress financially and they seemed to be a very, very nice couple."
   Schuller said she had no problems with the family, although a repairman whofixed a doorknob at the house told her Maurice was "a little on the surly side."
   Todd LeMaster, owner of Dayton Barber College, said Maurice Fareed was a student in the 11-month program for about the last four months. LeMaster said Fareed had "excellent grades, (and was a) good barber - he would have been very successful."
   LeMaster said Fareed didn't become close to anyone at the school, but he got along with instructors, students and customers, and didn't have trouble dealing with people of different races.
   "Everybody's in shock," LeMaster said. "I don't have any students Id expect(to kill someone), but he's the last guy I'd pick. He was just a nice, quiet guy who came to school and did his work. We've hashed it out with all the students and instructors and we can't find any rhyme or reason to any of it. Nobody has a clue."

Grossnickle's graduation
speech shows his nature

   Grossnickle's family and friends said the senselessness of the violence makes it tougher to accept.
   Dorothy Grossnickle married Jason's grandfather 20 years ago and watched Jake grow up. "He is just one of the finest - that is all I can say," she saidfrom her home in Greenville.
   She said the family was proud of Grossnickle when he graduated from the police academy in February, especially when Jason was selected from all of hisclassmates to speak to the crowd.
   "(The speech) tells you everything you need to know," she said.

   Here is part of what Jason Grossnickle had to say:

   "I have been part of a police family all my life, but now to know I will bea part of the job my father has been a part of, and other family members, is just amazing to me. And the pride I have inside to know that I will do the jobthat my father has done for so long leaves me with a sense of awe because I love my father so much. And to be able to share this part of my life with him means a lot.
   "There is a long road ahead of us, and anything can happen. We lost a friend in the academy to an injury, Shirley Rockwell, and we look forward to atime when she can join us on the streets. We will lose others along the way and my hope is that you, the 85th recruit class, who I am proud to call my friends, will have long and prosperous careers and lives.
   "I'd like to close this up with a note that was handed out during class. It's a prayer and I think it sums up a lot of the feelings I have been having as of late. The name of it is And So I Pray:
   "I am on my way to work and once again I am afraid. I am awed by the responsiblity with which I have been entrusted, frightened by the work I have embraced. I know that I will hold someone's life in my hands this day. Maybe, many someones. I know that for someone, I will be their focus, their faith, their hope, for a few moments when their lives are most tenuous, fragile and vulnerable. And so I pray that I will be equal to my task. Lord, help me to listen well this day. Help me to think well, remember well, decide well, act well and speak well. And help me to serve with integrity, sensitivity, dignityand joy. Amen."

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ART CREDIT: STEVE SPENCER/DAYTON DAILY NEWS
Janice Haidet Morse, Russell Carollo, Jim Bebbington, Lynn Hulsey and Laura Bischoff contributed to this report.