It is "gonna take five guys to replace him," were the words of one man.

The 6 o'clock peal of bells from Holy Family Church a few blocks away provided a somber backdrop to a vigil and prayer service a few blocks away in honor of slain White Center Deputy Sheriff Steve Cox. See photos on Page B-1.

In downtown White Center, about 200 people gathered on 16th Avenue Southwest last Friday in front of the White Center Sheriff and Community Service Center in quiet remembrance. Patrol cars blocked off 16th Avenue Southwest from Roxbury to 98th Street.

The crowd stood talking in a murmur like a river slowly rolling over smooth stones. Many people tipped lighted candles to pass the flame one to another. Other people stood in line to write condolences in a large book of blank pages.

Cox was killed Dec. 2 while interviewing people at a White Center party. Ronald Porter, a longtime criminal and suspect in a killing just hours earlier, shot Cox and then himself.

So many bouquets, candles and condolence cards were delivered that canopies were erected on the sidewalk and out onto 16th Avenue. Banquet tables with white tablecloths were set up in the street under the canopies in a U-shape with a large color photo of Cox set on an easel standing on the ground. His image had a dozen candles flickering around its base and an American flag hanging behind.

An plane load of roses, poinsettias, carnations, lilies, hydrangeas, chrysanthemums, dahlias and gladiolas was arrayed Pike Place-style on the tables. Small American flags were stuck in some of the flower arrangements. Numerous ringlets of incense smoke rose from the tables.

On Friday came the long funeral procession of police, with a special trip down 16th Avenue through White Center and past the Sheriff and Community Services Center.

The funeral was held in the cavernous Christian Faith Center in SeaTac with about 1,500 people in attendance. A color guard comprised of a Seattle Police officer, a Royal Canadian Mounted Police constable, a King County sheriff's deputy and two Washington State Patrol troopers posted flags. Then came the rattle of snare drums, the beat of the bass and the stirring wail of bagpipes as uniformed law enforcement officers from throughout the state and region filled the aisles on all sides as an honor guard.

Gov. Christine Gregoire called Cox "a great Washingtonian," and said his name will be added to the Washington State Law Enforcement Memorial in Olympia.

She noted Cox had been a prosecutor, a sheriff's deputy and actively engaged in civilian matters in White Center too.

"He was an officer literally on the street," the governor said.

She commented on his community image as a superman and said he was a selfless family man too.

When the governor finished her remarks, she left the podium and descended the stairs to where Cox's wife, Maria, was sitting. The governor embraced Mrs. Cox and a Washington State Patrol trooper brought her a triangular box with a glass top and a green and yellow section of the state flag showing.

King County Sheriff Sue Rahr began her remarks by thanking the people of White Center.

"In my 27 years in law enforcement, I have never seen the level of caring you gave to an officer," she said. The entire Sheriff's Office was touched by the hundreds of bouquets, cards and in-person gratitude offered up by people in the North Highline area in response to the murder of the deputy who not only guarded them but also contributed to the community.

Sometimes at police funerals, people feel an urge to build up the honoree, Rahr said.

"There was no need to build him up," she said. "He was a cop's cop and a hard-driving crime fighter."

The sheriff also learned Steve Cox had a compassionate side, evidenced by the many people she spoke to outside the White Center Sheriff and Community Service Center. Hundreds of people were there for the vigil last week. Many of them talked to her about how Deputy Cox had helped them when they were down and out. Some told the sheriff about their legal run-ins with Cox as well as how such encounters got them back on track.

"One deputy told me, 'Sheriff, it's gonna take five guys to replace him,'" Rahr said.

Steve Cox can't be replaced, but people can keep his legacy alive by turning their grief into positive action, she said.

"It's up to us to make sure his memory matters," Rahr said.

The sheriff went down to the front row to hug the deputy's widow. She presented her with her husband's badge and photo in a glass case.

Fellow deputies went to the podium to talk about their fallen comrade.

"Steve Cox was the hardest working deputy sheriff any of us has ever worked with," said Major Greg Dymerski, commander of the Sheriff's Office Precinct 4 in Burien, Cox's precinct.

A man in White Center, whom Cox had arrested a time or two, told Dymerski, "I don't like police, but I liked Cox."

Early in Cox's career at Precinct 4, he was assigned to undercover street-level drug busts.

"He was relentless," said Sgt. Bob Lurry, Cox's supervisor. "My box was clogged with Steve Cox arrests. I thought, he's new. He'll slow down."

People throughout the room chuckled knowingly.

Cox worked the shift from late afternoon until early morning, when the most emergency calls are made.

"He had a nose for sniffing out crime like I'd never seen," Lurry said.

Cox's work partner, Corrections Officer Mike Schemnitzer, said driving around White Center with him "was like riding around with a rock star." Everybody knew Deputy Cox.

He said Cox had "the finest police sense I've ever seen" and referred to Cox as a legend.

Friends offered their own personal stories about their lost pal.

Ben Beale told of playing basketball with Steve and his "suffocating defense."

"He never grumbled," Beale said. "He had the heart of a lion."

When he first met Cox, friend Eric Walker said to himself, "Geez, this guy's wound up tight."

"He knew just one gear: full speed ahead," Walker said.

"Steve Cox was a doer," he added. "He set the standard for doing."

Steve's brother, Ron Cox, said the only TV programs his older brother liked to watch as a kid were "Dragnet," "Adam-12," "The FBI" and, his favorite, "Perry Mason."

"As long as I can remember, he wanted to be a cop," Ron said.

Steve was not gifted athletically or academically, but he had a work ethic.

Ron told of how Steve tried out for the Evergreen High School basketball team as a sophomore, but got cut. He tried out again as a junior only to get cut again. Then he began a self-imposed weightlifting regimen and regular solitary basketball practice on the outdoor courts at Shorewood Elementary School. When he tried out as a senior, he made the Wolverines' starting squad.

Ron imparted that, for all his qualities, his brother was a lousy dancer who was infected by the late 1970s disco era.

"It was a painful thing to watch," Ron said. "Like Elaine on "Seinfeld.'"

A video of Steve Cox's life was shown and disco music was prominent.

The younger Cox brother closed his remarks with chastisement of the news media for focusing on corruption in the Sheriff's Office when there are so many more deputies like his brother, doing an honest job in an upright manner.

"Why did it take my brother's death to get positive articles about police?" he asked. "We need more improvement in news coverage."

The service ended with the drummers and pipers playing "Amazing Grace." Then a police radio crackled to life. A dispatcher called out a couple of times for "Ida 41," Cox's radio code name. After getting no response, the dispatcher said "Ida 41 is 10-7 (out of service). Gone but not forgotten."

Tim St. Clair can be reached at tstclair@robinsonnews.com or 932-0300.