The Mercury News

Motorcade stretches miles to honor San Quentin prison guard.

Sgt. Gilbert Polanco died after an inmate transfer ushered the virus inside the prison

- By Julia Prodis Sulek jsulek@bayareanew­sgroup.com

SAN JOSE >> The motorcade stretched 2 miles Wednesday along the smoky foothills of Interstate 680, where over 200 cars fluttering with U.S. flags followed the coffin of San Quentin Prison Sgt. Gilbert Polanco and his grieving family.

Motorcycle police stopped traffic on three freeways and blocked traffic at every on-ramp from a San Jose mortuary to a Fremont cemetery.

Such tributes, with an honor guard and police escorts, bagpipes and a 21-gun salute, are reserved for law enforcemen­t officers who die in the line of duty. The last time someone got such treatment at San Quentin was 35 years ago, when an inmate killed a prison guard.

Sgt. Polanco, 55, was killed by COVID-19.

A disastrous decision by prison officials to transfer more than 100 inmates from a state prison in Chino at the height of the pandemic in late May introduced the virus to San Quentin that would spiral into the largest cluster of coronaviru­s cases anywhere in the U.S. Polanco was one of 276 employees sickened by the virus and on Aug. 9 became the first to die after being hospitaliz­ed for weeks.

In the mortuary parking lot Wednesday, where the service took place to maintain social distancing, San Quentin Prison Warden Ron Broomfield dropped to his knee, bowed his head and presented the folded flag that had draped Polanco’s coffin to his widow, Patricia; a 22-year-old daughter, Selena; and a 26-year-old son, Vincent, home on leave from a U.S. Army station in South Korea.

“This should have never happened,” one prison employee said.

By Wednesday, 2,236 inmates had tested positive and 26 had died.

Just days before Polanco’s death, his wife had called it “a catastroph­e.”

Across California, the virus has killed nine state prison employees. At least four other Bay Area law enforcemen­t officers and employees have died in the pandemic, including Richmond police Sgt. Virgil Thomas, who died last week.

On Wednesday, Patricia Polanco struggled to maintain her composure, collapsing into her daughter’s arms. The black masks they wore to prevent the spread of the coronaviru­s did little to muffle their sobs. Her son, wearing his formal Army uniform and white gloves, saluted the flag.

The couple had been married for nearly 30 years and in their early days had lived in employee housing with their young children on the grounds of San Quentin. Despite the looming presence of the famous prison and notorious death row, Selena and Vincent rode their bikes along the main street and the families there formed a tight bond. The Polancos ultimately moved to San Jose, where Sgt. Polanco

was raised and had graduated from Lincoln High School. Even after his children graduated from the same school, Polanco continued to help coach the football team.

In normal times, “We would pack out any church” for a funeral service for such a beloved prison guard, San Quentin Lt. Sam Robinson said before the caravan of cars left the mortuary for the cemetery. “This family would see Polanco was loved by many.”

The length of the motorcade surely showed it.

“It’s overwhelmi­ng, but not surprising,” said Elisa Jessen, Sgt. Polanco’s niece. “He was a great man.”

He worked double shifts to help when guards became sick with the coronaviru­s. He donated supplies to victims of the Santa Rosa wildfires and organized fishing derbies for his fellow prison guards. He had a funny way of making people feel they were in on a secret, when really he was just whispering about sports.

Without a public church service, extended family, friends and co-workers had been invited to join the mobile procession but were warned to remain in their cars to follow federal guidelines and prevent the spread of coronaviru­s. The rules were difficult to enforce.

In the mortuary parking lot on Little Orchard Street in San Jose, people gathered on the sidewalk and peered through the fence to watch the solemn ceremony.

“It feels so distant,” said Susan Carmichael, a retired prison guard, who stood on the edge of the parking lot. “We feel we can’t pay our respects properly.”

On Thursday, a funeral Mass for family only will occur outdoors at St. Joseph’s Cathedral in San Jose. It will be livestream­ed for San Quentin staffers to watch.

On Friday, Polanco’s ashes will be scattered in the San Francisco Bay, not far from the prison walls.

“In a year or so, or whenever we are safe from COVID-19, we will have a proper celebratio­n of life and do it right to honor Gilbert,” Patricia Polanco wrote on the invitation to the freeway procession. “When that time comes, I want to invite the world.”

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 ?? PHOTOS BY ARIC CRABB — STAFF PHOTOGRAPH­ER ?? Correction­al officers with the San Quentin State Prison Honor Guard escort the casket of Sgt. Gilbert Polanco from a funeral home on Wednesday in San Jose. Polanco, a correction­al officer at San Quentin State Prison, died after contractin­g COVID-19.
PHOTOS BY ARIC CRABB — STAFF PHOTOGRAPH­ER Correction­al officers with the San Quentin State Prison Honor Guard escort the casket of Sgt. Gilbert Polanco from a funeral home on Wednesday in San Jose. Polanco, a correction­al officer at San Quentin State Prison, died after contractin­g COVID-19.
 ??  ?? Patricia Polanco is given a hug by a member of the San Quentin State Prison honor guard during a ceremony honoring her husband, Gilbert Polanco, on Wednesday in San Jose.
Patricia Polanco is given a hug by a member of the San Quentin State Prison honor guard during a ceremony honoring her husband, Gilbert Polanco, on Wednesday in San Jose.

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